Everybody runs,
Run, run, run.
Nobody says hi,
Or expects same.
They still run,
Rush and run,
Push and pass,
Run on stairs,
On escalators,
In the streets.
Some run down,
Others run up.
Some run in,
Others run out,
Some run east,
While others west.
Still others run
South or north
They all run,
Rush and run
The beauty of rush hours,
The beauty of busyness.
Run, run, run
Always run
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| Commuters at a London train station |
Written in April 2007
